


Reward

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Light BDSM, M/M, One Shot, Orgasm Delay, Sub Sherlock Holmes, This is not the place to look for plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2419286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has been good.<br/>John has special ways to reward him for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reward

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that there will be light BDSM/Bondage, as mentioned in the tags, so if you don't like that, don't read it.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this one shot, I hope it brings you just as much joy :-)

A loud noise from the front door made John jump out of his chair. He had planned to spend his evening reading a good book by the fire, but there he was, alert, standing in the middle of the living room, pondering whether it would be wise to get the gun from his room.  
After a few minutes of silence there were urgent footsteps on the stairs to 221b, followed by a very agitated looking Sherlock dashing through the door.

“John.” He said earnestly. “John, I’ve been good today.”

The tension left John’s body in a rush, and his mouth spread into a smirk.  
“Oh, have you then, Sherlock?” he asked questioningly. “Hmm, I suppose you want a reward for that?”

“Yes” Sherlock nodded, his tone urgent. He was staring intensely at John, obviously expecting an adequate reaction.

But John was undisturbed.  
“Then I suggest you get yourself ready, and I’ll be with you in a few minutes,” he said, and made his way towards the bathroom.

 

x

 

When John entered their bedroom, Sherlock was lying on the sheets spread eagle, and gloriously naked. His long, slender cock was already half hard from anticipation and lay flushed against his belly.A satisfied grin spread across John’s face as he took in the marvellous sight in front of him.

Sherlock was obviously not pleased by the hesitation in John’s movement, and grunted to get him out of his reverie.

“I see you’re already quite excited,” John stated calmly, “I think this calls for some precautions, if you know what I mean,” he continued. He was rummaging in the bedside drawer, getting out two pairs of handcuffs. John tied Sherlock carefully to the bed, double checking the cuffs. Sherlock was a master in freeing himself from any ties he found himself in, after all. When John was satisfied, he started undressing himself until he too was completely naked. Without even looking at Sherlock, he knew the man’s eyes were roaming his body hungrily, and revelled in the feeling of being wanted. When Sherlock’s eyes found his, they were burning with anger and lust, and John found it distinctly difficult to withstand their draw and just take the man in front of him apart as quickly as possible.

He managed it though, grabbed the bottle of lube he had prepared, and started smearing some of its contents deliciously slowly, and in plain sight for Sherlock, onto, and between, his arse cheeks. He then climbed onto Sherlock’s lithe body and softly sat down on his belly, making sure the swollen top of Sherlock’s cock was trapped between his cheeks.  
Sherlock’s face scrunched beautifully as he made a noise that was something between a gasp because of the sudden contact on his sensitive flesh, and a sigh of relief from the straining tension he had built up during the cab ride home, longing for John’s touch.  
His skin was so fair; there was only a hint of rose that distinguished it from the sheets. Sherlock’s dark hair and pink nipples, on the contrary, stood out like flowers in the snow.  
Slowly, John made tiny movements, forwards and backwards, always taking Sherlock’s hardening cock with him, keeping the delicious friction.

“So then, Sherlock” he tried to keep his voice even, “Tell me what it is that you deserve a reward for.”

Sherlock swallowed hard and croaked, his cheeks flushing: “I... I said thank you to Molly today when she gave me the toes of the man who had them bitten off by a goat.”

John hummed, answering with a slightly longer movement, making Sherlock moan, “That was good indeed. What else?”

“I hugged Mrs Hudson before I left today.”

John moved again, watching the dark flesh of his own cock drawing circles on Sherlock’s body.

Sherlock seemed to have forgotten that he was not yet finished with his task, so John stopped moving.

“I bought groceries today! And I had a full lunch! And I told Anderson he’s an ugly dinosaur.”

John grinned as he rewarded Sherlock (or himself, for resisting the endless temptation, that was Sherlock Holmes, he couldn’t tell) with a languid motion of his hips. He bent down and whispered into his lovers ear “Anything else that you deserve rewarding for, Sherlock?”

Sherlock’s voice was low with desire and John felt it rumbling through his chest, “I didn’t put the toes Molly gave me next to anything edible in the fridge, and I gave you an extraordinary blowjob this morning.”

John nodded as he climbed off Sherlock, who immediately protested at the lack of touch, and concluded, “Yes I agree, you’ve been quite good today. But I also asked you to phone your parents, which you haven’t done for half a year now. I asked you a week ago, and you still haven’t done it....”

Sherlock interrupted John with a series of explanations, which John silenced effectively by taking Sherlock’s cock fully into his mouth.

“Oh” Sherlock breathed, overwhelmed by the sensation of warm, wet texture against his delicate skin.

But John didn’t plan to do any of this quickly. He sucked on Sherlock’s, now fully hard prick and let it pop out of his mouth again. He started nibbling softly at the glands, moving his tongue over the small slit at the front multiple times, drawing out drops of bitter precum. John breathed in deeply, savouring the smell of Sherlock’s most intimate areas, where no one but himself had access to, where Sherlock’s scent was most uniquely his own, undisturbed by any exposure to the outside.

Sherlock whimpered when John licked the underside of the glands, and bucked his hips. But John held his lovers body down and continued his way down on Sherlock’s prick. The foreskin was drawn almost all the way down, and John was now teasing the soft, responsive skin that was revealed.

Sherlock bucked again, willing John to go faster, but John kept his pace, licking and teasing Sherlock until he reached his balls. Sherlock was positively moaning, his eyes closed and neck arched, when John finally began to bob his head in a steady rhythm.

John himself found his member gradually hardening, his blood leaving his brain and filling his groin with pure desire for the man underneath him. But he fought to control himself, and when his hands found Sherlock’s balls, he stopped moving his head again, leaning close into Sherlock, teasing his glands with his breath only, but never touching. Instead, he softly pressed his fingers into the small bridge between Sherlock’s balls and anus, from where he could stimulate his prostate from the outside. He knew it was not quite the same as from the inside, but it had Sherlock fist the sheets and trembling on the mattress anyways. With his free hand, John managed to open the lube and pour some of it onto his fingers.

At the first touch of John’s fingers against Sherlock’s most intimate opening, Sherlock went completely still, absolutely focused on the feeling of John’s, his John’s, skilled fingers, gently probing their way inside. Lost in sensation, Sherlock forgot to breathe for a few seconds, and when John finally found the spot he had been searching for, Sherlock drew a deep, ragged breath, a mixture of bliss and nervous anticipation.

“All right?” John asked, looking up at Sherlock from under his heavy lashes.

“Yes,” Sherlock breathed “Go on. Please.”

And go on John did, slowly at first, then at a faster pace, rubbing the bundle of nerves that he knew set jolts through Sherlock’s body. He watched with fascination as Sherlock’s cock twitched and leaked, but refrained from touching it. Only every now and then, he gave it a little tug, enough to tease, but never enough to send Sherlock over the edge.

Sherlock himself was straining against his cuffs now, desiring to touch himself, to release his aching member, to finally fall, but he couldn’t pick the cuffs. Sex made his mind so terribly slow. “Please, John, touch me, please,” he pleaded, but John’s mouth was too occupied with Sherlock's left nipple to care for an answer.

Sherlock bucked his hips in earnest now, making the mattress creak, every muscle in his body tensed  
and John knew that this was the exact time he had to stop.

He slowly pulled his finger out of Sherlock, who gave a cry of frustration and tried to get his body close to John’s again, but John had other plans. He let Sherlock lie there, tied to the bed, straining, aching and fully erect, and began to prepare himself.

“John, let me do this! John, let me see, at least! John, HURRY UP! John! John!”

But John took his time, until he was certain he was ready to take Sherlock.  
When he was open wide enough, he lay down on top of Sherlock, their bodies touching from head to toe, for the first time this day. They kissed, passionately, roughly, sucking at lips and tongues, biting, nibbling and marking each other, while John aligned Sherlock’s cock with his anus and allowed him inside.

Sherlock looked up at him with feverish eyes, dark and desiring when he was fully inside John, but didn’t start moving until John had freed him from his handcuffs and said. “Take me Sherlock. Fuck me.”

And Sherlock did as he was told, he pushed his cock into John, clinging on to the body above him, digging his nails into John’s back. He took what he could get, moaning, gasping, and filling John.

John finally let his body relax, didn’t hold back anymore. He sucked at Sherlock’s throat and revelled in the pleasure of being so full, so full of Sherlock, feeling as if they were only one body, moving in unison, drawing sheer pleasure from each other.

When Sherlock came, it was with a strangled cry, spilling himself into John, letting release wash through him like a white wave, not thinking, not even feeling, just floating, letting his body do what it wanted, knowing John wanted it too.

He was still half inside John when he felt him touching himself, rapidly, mercilessly, groaning Sherlock’s name. Sherlock focused on John’s prick in John’s hands, orgasm still dulling his senses, allowing him to take in only one thing at a time. He only saw white streaks spurting from John’s cock, warm liquid landing on Sherlock’s stomach, and then felt John collapsing heavily on top of him.

It took them a few minutes to recover. They were drained, but happy, lying in each other’s arms, not even daring to think what would have happened, had they never met.  
They needed each other like light needs darkness, like sound needs silence, like air needs space. And they had each other, forever.


End file.
